Without a Scent
by Finicky
Summary: AU. Lelouch would realize later on that unlike all the other women whom he had slept with in the past, she had not left anything behind—not even a scent—to remember her by. LelouchxCC. One-shot. Rated M for explicit themes


**Without a Scent**

**Summary: **Lelouch would realize later on that unlike all the other women whom he had slept with in the past, she had not left anything behind—not even a scent—to remember her by.  
**Pairing: **LelouchxCC  
**Status: **Complete  
**Warning(s): **AU, mature content

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognizable is not mine.

* * *

Lelouch vi Britannia woke up feeling as if his head was being split in half.

His throat feeling incredibly dry, he let out a coarse groan and rested an arm over his eyes, silently willing for the headache to go away.

_Where am I? _

The familiar warmth and softness of the sheets under him told him that he was in his bed. Strangely enough, though, a distant part of his mind told him that that should not have been the case. He tried shifting to his side, but the movement caused his heavy head to reel uncontrollably. Bile rose up in his gut.

He inwardly cursed. _What happened to me?_

When the nauseous feeling subsided somehow, he slowly opened his eyes, squinting slightly at the sudden brightness that worsened the pounding in his head tenfold. With some difficulty, he began to discern the white, pristine—but barren—walls of his huge bedroom, which was bathed in early morning sunlight.

_What happened?_

Very slowly, he propped himself up on his elbows, then blinked several times to adjust his eyes to the ethereal glow of his surroundings. It was then when he realized that underneath the thin sheet of blanket covering the lower-half of his body, he was stark naked. What he recognized as his clothes from yesterday's family dinner were strewn haphazardly across the floor next to the bed, like some snake's dead skin that had been stripped off in a hurried, careless manner. This was highly uncharacteristic of a person like Lelouch, who prided himself with his wardrobe and took utmost care of his clothes…

Also, it was not his habit to sleep without anything on.

Suddenly, with the force of a rampaging rhinoceros, snippets of the past day's events flashed before his mind's eye, making his head throb all the more. He had stormed out of the dining hall of his family's ancestral house in a fit of rage, ignoring his father's cold, commanding voice ordering him to get back in his seat lest he wanted to be stripped of his right to inherit Britannia Enterprises—then he was at a random, shady-looking bar in Shibuya, drinking himself out of his wits—then he was in a cab headed back to his apartment in the affluent side of the city, throwing up in a paper bag—then he was staring down into beautiful, golden eyes, which were glowing brightly amidst the darkness of his bedroom—then he was gripping the sheets tightly as he slowly reached his climax—

Lelouch bolted upright, then regretted the action one second later as searing pain sliced through his skull and another wave of nausea hit him. "_Goddammit," _he swore loudly, fisting clumps of his jet-black hair with both of his hands in a vain attempt to ease his suffering.

Then a sudden gust of wind swept by, making his prone body shiver involuntarily.

Then, for a moment, it smelled strongly of cigarette smoke.

Still nursing his massive hangover, he turned his head to the source of the pungent scent and noticed that the glass doors leading to the veranda were left wide open. The next thing that came into his attention was the person standing outside, silhouetted against the sunlight streaming in. Upon closer inspection, the person was revealed to be a woman, her back facing Lelouch as she leaned on the railings of the veranda, a lit stick secured deftly in-between her fingers. Her long sheet of lime-green hair swayed gently in the wind, and for some reason, Lelouch had the vague notion that it was incredibly soft to the touch, almost like silk, but not quite. Even from his vantage point, he knew that she had a very _fine_ body, as the thin material she was wearing—which, he recognized a split-second later, was _his_ dress shirt—revealed much of her flawless ivory skin, curvaceous waist and long, slender legs.

It took another minute of shameless ogling before it finally hit him that he did not know who she was.

As if electrified, Lelouch jumped off his bed, but not without making sure that he had at least secured the bed sheet around his waist. It would not do well at all if he was charged of sexual harassment for flashing his family jewels to a random woman standing in his veranda.

But shouldn't he be the one suing her for trespassing in the first place?

"Who's there?" he demanded, in that cold, authoritative voice he perfected after years of working for his father's company.

The woman in question threw him a nonchalant glance over her shoulder, not affected at all by his tone or defensive stance. Her eyes, which were a bold shade of gold, bore into him with surprising intensity.

"Good morning, Lelouch," she said simply. The part of her face that was visible to Lelouch did not reveal any emotion.

"_Who are you?" _Lelouch pressed on, his violet eyes quickly scanning the room for the whereabouts of his mobile phone.

A soft chuckle came from the unfamiliar woman, completely catching him off-guard. He looked back just in time to see her turn around to fully face him.

"You should see the look in your face," she said casually, resting her elbows on the railings and taking a long drag from her stick. A cloud of smoke billowed in her face as she exhaled loudly. She wore nothing else aside from Lelouch's shirt.

"I can report you for trespassing," Lelouch bluffed, scowling heavily.

The woman regarded him blandly. "I made coffee," she replied, ignoring his previous statement. "Why don't you help yourself?" True to her word, two steaming mugs sat innocently at the coffee table situated by the glass doors.

Lelouch's intuition—which he took pride in for never failing him before—told him that although suspicious, this strange, beautiful woman was no real threat. Therefore, after a moment's hesitation, he mindlessly slipped on a pair of boxers that he had discarded on the floor and took a seat in one of the two plush chairs by the table, claiming a mug of black coffee to himself. The woman put out her cigarette, stepped back into the room and placed herself across from him.

"I can't exactly remember how I ended up like this," Lelouch admitted, after a long, pregnant silence passed.

"You were drunk last night," she started, taking the remaining mug and sipping from it. "The bar was closing and you were knocked out like a dead log. I volunteered to take you home." She had said all of this as if she was just talking about the weather. "How's your head?"

"Terrible," Lelouch said. He took note of her clothing—or lack thereof—once more and suddenly felt mildly embarrassed. "Did we…?" he trailed off, his eyes shifting to the side to avoid looking her in the eye.

"Have sex?" she continued helpfully. "Yes, we did." She drank her coffee.

Well, that was awkward. Just to have something else to do other than fidget uncomfortably in his seat, Lelouch resorted to mimicking her actions and tasting his own coffee. It was strong, but strangely enough, it didn't taste too bitter. He was not a fan of coffee, but right now he didn't seem to mind, especially since after a few more sips, his head began to feel a little better.

"How's the coffee?" she inquired.

"Good," he said. "Better than the ones my secretary makes for me."

His answer seemed to satisfy her. "I snooped around your kitchen. It looks like it's never been used before."

"Because it's not."

"What a waste. What would I give to live in a place like this." She finished her mug in one huge gulp and placed it back on the table. "Can I use the shower?"

"Sure," Lelouch said noncommittally. He watched the woman as she rose to her feet, her hair cascading down to her thighs as she picked up her own clothes on her way to the bathroom. He waited until the bathroom door clicked shut behind her before releasing a breath he wasn't aware of holding in the first place.

Lelouch turned back to his coffee and tried hard to make sense of his fragmented memories of yesterday's series of (unfortunate) events. He had left the office quite early in preparation for his private flight to the Britannia Estate in mainland Pendragon, where the customary family dinner was held four times a year. He had arrived at seven PM sharp together with his sister, and had been welcomed by their cousins, whom they only really saw around this time of the year. Dinner had been tedious and horrible, as usual; conversation was held for the sole purpose of bragging and comparing who among the cousins was most successful, with another heated competition rising between Schneizel and Cornelia, two of the oldest and most highly-respected among the Britannia children.

Then Lelouch's father, Charles zi Britannia, the current head of the family, of course had to ruin everything.

"I have heard of how you are responsible for sealing the deal with UE, Schneizel," the patriarch started, and immediately, the whole table fell quiet out of respect for the head. "A dying will of previous generations finally made true." At that, he rose his wine-filled glass, and the others automatically followed his lead.

"To Schneizel," Charles said.

"To Schneizel!" Lelouch's relatives repeated.

"There is also the matter of Cornelia's most recent promotion in the Air Force," the Head of the family continued. "She is, as of now, entitled as the youngest officer in history to be ever promoted to Technical Sergeant. To Cornelia."

"To Cornelia!"

Charles took a moment looking at his family before continuing. "And of course, to my own son, Lelouch, who is currently based in Tokyo, Japan as Britannia's representative to the Asian branches."

All heads simultaneously snapped to the violet-eyed man seated directly at the other end of the table. Lelouch could feel the emotions behind each pair of eyes that bore on him, most of them full of animosity and jealousy. Everyone knew that Charles zi Britannia was a very cold, intelligent and severe man who held no partiality even to his own children. To him, everything was measured according to economic profit. What made Lelouch the object of utmost jealousy, therefore, was that aside from being the only son of the current head of the family, he also outshined most of his cousins because of his remarkable contributions to the expansion of Britannia Enterprises, the family business and arguably the largest business conglomerate in the whole world. This made him the most likely candidate for the next CEO of the Britannia business empire, a position which almost everyone at the table would practically kill for, relative or not.

True enough, out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed his cousin Carine giving him the stink eye, before whispering (most probably something nasty) to Clovis, who sat to her left.

"He has successfully expanded the Empire to the Chinese Federation," Lelouch's father drawled, and although his face and tone of voice did not betray any emotion, everyone at the table knew that he was pleased. "He had also managed to seal a subcontract with the Indian conglomerates. This is a huge investment that will potentially exceed our projected annual net income by forty percent."

Loud murmurs erupted at this. Odysseus, the oldest cousin, reached a hand across the table to give Lelouch's shoulder a congratulatory pat, while Euphemia, two seats from his right, threw him an admiring smile. Everyone rose their glasses to him and cheered—mostly in pretend-happiness.

From the head of the table, Charles zi Britannia finally put down his glass and resumed eating, apparently done with his customary acknowledgement. In effect, the others resumed their private conversations.

Lelouch, however, was not done yet.

"Father," he said, loud enough to be heard above the din. "May I have a word?"

This silenced the whole table almost instantly. It was rare that a person other than the head of the family would request an audience during the family dinner. Charles appeared unsurprised as he lightly dabbed a napkin on his lips.

"Speak."

Lelouch inwardly heaved a deep breath, set down his fork and knife and stood with all the pride he could muster. "As we all know," he began, in a steady voice befitting of a Prime Minister, "our family business has flourished to the point that no one can compete with us globally in the next ten years and so." He paused as a smattering of clapping was heard around the table. "Given this premise, Nunnally and I—" He briefly nodded to his younger sister, who was seated right next to him. "—have come up with a new project for our company." He paused for dramatic effect. "That is, to establish an organization that will sponsor the founding of schools and hospitals in less-developed countries such as that in Africa and the Middle East."

His father's silence was his cue to continue. "Nunnally, our esteemed Ambassador for Social Welfare and Public Works, already released a campaign that invites the government and other private companies to sponsor the foundation. We believe that as one of the largest employers of our country, we should also serve the interest of those who had served us in all these years of prosperity."

A longer moment of silence ensued in the humongous dining hall. From beside him, Nunnally shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unaccustomed to being the center of attention. Lelouch rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, to which she responded by looking up at him with a small smile.

"Lelouch," Charles finally said. "What is our company's vision?"

"To keep lessons of the past, create infinite possibilities and lead humankind forward to a world of tomorrow," Lelouch recited from the heart.

"Then there's your answer." His father resumed his dinner.

Lelouch blinked. "I don't understand," he said.

Charles' eyes—which his son had inherited—almost burned a hole in the younger man from the other side of the table. "The rule of life is the survival of the fittest. Our company is not responsible for relics of history."

Nunnally visibly winced.

"These relics you speak of are _people, _Father," Lelouch implored. "I believe that philanthropic projects will give Britannia Enterprises a good public image."

"To what expense?" his father shot back. "You very well know that we are to launch the Damocles Project early next year. Accommodating your little outreach program in our budget and timeline may significantly delay our progress."

"You can't possibly be serious," Lelouch said, his eyes widening. "The Damocles Project has been denied by the Prime Minister."

"Who do you think we are, Lelouch? We are _Britannia. _We have our ways."

"But that project will destroy Japan's ecosystem!" His voice was rising. "Just think of how many plant and animal life—not to mention agricultural livelihood—we will be sacrificing just to make that project possible!"

"We are businessmen, not saints."

Carine cackled evilly at the joke.

Lelouch ignored her. "But Father—"

"Silence!" Charles banged a fist on the table, and the sound echoed in the entire hall like the judge's gavel in a criminal court. "As the company's representative to Asia," he said, once he had calmed down enough, "I will give Project Damocles to _you_."

Stunned silence.

"What?" Lelouch froze on the spot.

"You will be working with Clovis here." The aforementioned man straightened in his seat and donned a wide smile, obviously pleased to be chosen to participate in such an important endeavor. "That is all."

The patriarch had already looked down on his lamb chops when his only son spoke again.

"_I refuse."_

The hand that was holding Charles's knife froze in mid-action. Everyone seemed to have stopped breathing and stared, wide-eyed, at Lelouch. _No one _refused the Head of the Britannia Family. _No one._

"I will overlook this moment of utter disrespect and impudence to the CEO," the head of the family began, "not because you are my son, but because of the invaluable services you have rendered for the company." At this, Charles zi Britannia's demeanor changed to the hard, cold and dominating persona that he usually showed during press conferences and important business meetings. "However, you are not to speak again of your plans to use the company's name to fulfill your self-gratifying notions of martyrdom." He left the statement there, but the words "or else" hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode.

Then Lelouch detonated it.

"Mother would have sided with us."

"Brother," Nunnally squeaked, tugging at Lelouch's sleeve in a futile attempt to make him remember his place.

Those words were enough to send Charles to his feet. "_Don't you dare_," he said in a low voice that had sent a shiver run down Lelouch's spine, "_bring Marianne into this."_

"I am not a coward like you!" Lelouch yelled, now angry.

Someone from the table gasped.

As if in slow motion, Charles raised an arm and pointed at the double doors that led outside the dining hall. His next words weighed down in the pit of Lelouch's stomach like lead.

"_Get out._"

For the first time since the argument began, the heir to Britannia Enterprises realized the gravity of his offense. He had just mouthed off his father—the Head of Britannia Family and the current CEO of Britannia Enterprises, no less—in front of the whole clan, and subsequently called him a coward like some five-year-old kid accusing a playmate.

Dread began to fill the whole of his being. "Father," he voiced out, "I—"

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Charles was positively seething. Schneizel made to reach out to him, but he swatted his nephew's hand away like a pesky fly. "OUT! OUT!"

Lelouch noncommittally took a step backward, his eyes stricken with regret and fear. "I'm sorr—"

"You insolent, ungrateful child, you are not welcome in the house of my forefathers!"

This was too much. Lelouch wanted forget all about this and run away from this place.

And he did.

Before he could step over the threshold, however, his father called out to his back:

"One step outside of this hall and you are _never _going to be the CEO of this company, nor will you get anything out of it, even a cent."

And so, the rest of the night was history.

Lelouch emitted a tired moan as he was brought back to his present predicament, hung-over and practically disowned by his father. He was most likely fired from his position at the office as well. He thought about Nunnally, and immediately, he felt worse than he would have if his father exiled him to Papua New Guinea instead. He wouldn't put it past the Head to punish his little sister too because of his misdeeds.

He crouched over and sank his face into his hands. _Oh Mother, what have I done?_

At that precise moment, the bathroom door swung open.

Lelouch had almost forgotten that he was not alone in the room. Lifting his head, he saw the green-haired woman emerge from the doorway, fully clothed and a towel tied on her head like a turban. She took one glance at him before walking towards the full-length mirror situated at the other side of the wide room.

Lelouch could now clearly remember how she ended up in his apartment. After leaving the estate, he took the private plane and flew directly back to Japan. It was way past midnight when he had arrived, and, not wanting to go home to an empty apartment, he had crashed into a bar in Shibuya and decided to drink the night away. He never was a drinker, and his alcohol tolerance was pretty terrible, so he was already tipsy on his third bottle of beer. Then there was the beautiful, long-haired woman sitting two seats away from him, observing him with open curiosity. Another bottle of beer had led him to her, and somehow, they ended up drinking together, conversing but not really _talking_.

Lelouch, highly intoxicated, had told her to stay with him for the night.

She had conceded without question.

"I apologize," he started in an undertone, eyeing her form through the mirror. "And thank you."

The woman undid the towel and let her wet hair fall limply on her back. "You look like you needed it," she said, using her hand as a comb.

Lelouch blinked. "The sex?"

That made her pause and look back at him through the mirror's reflection. "I meant the company," she said, unmistakable laughter in her tone. "But if you see it that way, so be it." When she was satisfied with how she looked, she turned her back to the mirror and began searching for her bag and shoes. She found them thrown hastily in different parts of the room.

"I did need the company," he said after a while, an empty smile marring his face as he continued to watch her fluid movements. "And I still do."

She paused and stared at him, but didn't say anything.

Then she went up to him and stood so close that his breath tickled her abdomen. Much to Lelouch's surprise, she put her arms around his neck and pulled his head against her body, gently stroking his dark hair—a little too long for a regular man's—with her willowy fingers, as if pacifying a young child. He closed his eyes and sank in her consoling embrace, an unexplainable, soothing calm washing all over his being.

"You have not lost everything yet, Lelouch," she said in a soft voice.

Then she released him and went for the door, leaving him suddenly feeling cold from the absence of her warmth. Just as she was about to step out of the room, he got up and called her back.

"I don't know your name," he said.

She paused long enough to give him a mysterious, almost rueful smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I don't have one."

And just like that, she was gone. Lelouch would realize later on that unlike all the other women whom he had slept with in the past, she had not left anything behind—not even a scent—to remember her by.

* * *

**AN:** My first Code Geass fic. I had wanted to make this a multi-chaptered fic, but then decided that it can already stand alone as a one-shot. Did you think I made the right decision?

Thank you for reading! Reviews will be really lovely.


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